


Till We've Lost the World

by Rinna_White



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Romance, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 15:01:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7849651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinna_White/pseuds/Rinna_White
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan regularly ventures into the "cursed" woods in his town to get away from it all and try to process his depression. One day, he unexpectedly meets a stranger named Alex in those woods. Apparently Alex isn't afraid of the curse either. (M/M)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till We've Lost the World

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I'm one of those people who posts completely original fic on a fanfic site! This is probably one of my better stories, though I'm not sure that's saying much. Hope people like it!

_ "None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm." _

_ \- Henry David Thoreau _

  
Jonathan was officially going stir-crazy. Three days had passed since his release from the hospital for the second time in as many months, and sitting alone with his own thoughts was doing him no favors. Art was his go-to coping mechanism, but he couldn’t stand to be cooped up in this stupid, unfamiliar apartment for another minute, so it was time to take it outside. He gathered a large sketchbook and a case including a variety of charcoal and colored pencils into a backpack and headed straight for the nearest pathway into the woods. The path he used to wander as a kid was only a ten minute walk from where he lived now, but he didn’t think he could handle the memories that would bring. Instead, he walked along his current street to where he thought he remembered an entrance to a four-wheeler trail.  
  
The moment he stepped off the paved road, Jonathan breathed an unconscious sigh of relief. He’d always loved playing in the woods as a kid, and he never really stopped spending time there. He found the atmosphere calming, especially in the spring and summer. The sun filtering through the trees, the quiet and solitude, the sounds of birdsong and skittering leaves disturbed by woodland critters, and barely a hint of the outside world save for the occasional airplane or fellow trail walkers. Not that he hated ‘civilization’, but sometimes it was nice to be away from people.  
  
Well, away from most people. His reverie was halted when he had to move out of the way for some high school kids on fourwheelers. The timing was annoying— it wasn't as if people used this path all the time, did they really have to be there right at the same time he was? The day was gorgeous, so it made sense that others were trying to enjoy it as well, but still. He hadn’t liked four wheeling high schoolers when he was _in_ high school, and he found he appreciated them even less since he’d come back as a graduate student. His frustration led him to turn off the path entirely, walking deeper into the woods than he usually would. On the spur of the moment, he decided to head directly for the one part of the woods where he knew for sure that he wouldn’t be bothered.  
  
Approximately three miles past the town border, there was section of the woods that was inexplicably cordoned off by a huge, thick rope tied around trees like giant fence posts, marking off a square mile or so that almost no one ever ventured into. Town lore held that it was 'cursed', and that sometimes people who passed the rope boundary never came back. Other people claimed it was dangerous for less farfetched reasons, such as vicious animals or poisonous plants, but Jonathan knew how to recognize dangerous plants and the idea that there were wild animals that would stay within a rope barrier just seemed ridiculous. He had never believed in the curse, at least not since he was ten or so, but venturing there was enough of a taboo among town natives that he’d always avoided the area by habit. Of course, that also meant it was the one place he was sure no one would bother him, making it perfect for the mood he was in right now.  
  
Crossing underneath the rope felt like breaking a rule, but Jonathan shrugged it off the same as he had the rumors and fantasies. The transition was more distinct than he'd expected; the woods somehow felt older here, the atmosphere heavier. After fighting through undergrowth for a few minutes, he found something resembling a path and picked his way along it carefully. Another few minutes in, the woods started to thin and the surroundings seemed more lush and alive than the area outside the rope. Eventually the path widened into a proper clearing, and it was so storybook beautiful it took Jonathan’s breath away. The brush underfoot gave way to overgrown grass dotted with a variety of small wildflowers, including buttercup, purple clovers, a smattering of dandelions, and an impressive quantity of the little blue-tinged white flowers Jonathan forgot the name of. There were a few large moss-covered rocks, and a small stream bubbled cheerfully along the far edge.  
  
There was no question that this was where he was going to stop to draw.  
  
After surveying the clearing for a good spot, Jonathan situated himself on top of the biggest rock. It was about three feet tall, with a wide, flat surface, and a great view of the whole space. He sat cross-legged, pulling his sketchbook into his lap, and there was even enough space next to him to line up the supplies he wanted to use. Mostly charcoals, he decided. Aiming his focus at the stream, he settled in and started sketching.  
  
Some time later found Jonathan completely engrossed in the drawing, until all of a sudden, he felt a weight on the back of his shoulders. A shock of adrenaline filled his system, and he half fell, half leapt off the rock in a suspended moment of sheer terror. His sketchbook went flying along with him, and his charcoals scattered all over.  
  
“Sorry,” a voice from somewhere above him offered, sounding guilty. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”  
  
Jonathan closed his eyes and took a moment to steady his breathing, before slowly opening them again and looking up in the direction the voice had come from. There was a person standing on the rock Jonathan had just vacated. Well, standing behind it, really, but up high enough that he must have been on a ledge in the  back of the rock.  
  
“Jesus _Christ,_ ” Jonathan managed once his heartbeat had slowed down. “What the hell _did_ you mean to do, then? Who the hell even are you?” Whoever this stranger was, he looked like some kind of hippy wild child. Jonathan took in his appearance with a practiced eye, noting the well worn cutoff jeans and loose shirt, long, honey colored blonde hair pulled back in a messy braid, and bare, calloused feet.  
  
“Ah, that’s the great puzzle,” the stranger responded, grinning. “My name’s Alex, though. I was watching you draw, and my foot went numb so I almost lost my balance.”  
  
Jonathan’s eyes went wide. “Um. How long were you standing there, exactly?”  
  
Alex shrugged, looking entirely too nonchalant. “Maybe ten minutes?”  
  
Jonathan knew he zoned out while drawing, but he hadn’t realized it was _that_ bad. “You know that's super creepy, right?" he voiced out loud, feeling distinctly unsettled. "We don't even know each other.”  
  
"Sorry." Alex didn't sound very contrite, but he did jump off the rock and start picking up some of Jonathan’s charcoals. "It’s just that I don't see many people this deep in these woods. I was curious. Also, I wanted a closer look." He gestured to the half-finished sketch Jonathan had been working on. The sketchbook had landed awkwardly, so the page was now wrinkled and more than a little smudged. "That's beautiful, by the way."  
  
"You basically ruined it, though." Jonathan replied, frowning, as he went to collect the sketchbook and attempted to right the pages. "And probably a few other things in here, too."  
  
"Sorry," Alex repeated, sounding more genuine than the last time. A beat later, however, he added, "You _are_ the one who dropped it, though."  
  
"Yes,” Jonathan replied, his voice slow and controlled, expression schooled into a glare. “Because _you_ snuck up on me, invaded my personal space, and completely scared the shit out of me."  
  
Alex hummed in acknowledgement but didn't otherwise respond, continuing the search for lost charcoals. Jonathan huffed an irritated sigh and joined him in combing the grass. They worked in silence for a while, piling everything they found on top of the rock, with Jonathan continually arranging them in the case so he could figure out how many were still missing. Finally he was down to only one left, so he took a moment to pick up the sketchbook again and examine the extent of the damage.  
  
"Can I have it?" Alex asked.  
  
Jonathan turned to look at him, where he was still milling through the grass in search of the last charcoal. He tried but failed to follow what Alex might be talking about. "Have what?"  
  
Alex straightened up and pointed to the sketchpad. "That picture you were working on. If it's ruined anyway."  
  
Jonathan raised a skeptical eyebrow, unsure why he’d even want such a thing. "It's not even finished."  
  
"You could finish it now, though." Alex shrugged. After a pause, while Jonathan struggled to figure how he should feel about this, Alex tilted his head and added, "Even if you don't, I still want it."  
  
"Ugh. Whatever." Jonathan waved a hand aimlessly, as though shooing away his own thoughts like a bothersome insect. "Let me just make it look less awful."  
  
He couldn't have said why he was bothering, but he picked up the sketchbook, smoothed the page as best he could, and set to work. He focused on covering up the smudging first, then filled in the blank areas of the page with a simplified version of his original design.  
  
An indeterminate amount of time later, Jonathan stopped, stared at the page for a long moment, then put the sketchbook down with an air of finality.   
  
"Are you done?" Alex asked. It wasn't until that moment that Jonathan realized that Alex had legitimately sat in complete silence the entire time, which had to have been at least another twenty or thirty minutes. Jonathan found it surprising, but it did explain how he'd had failed to notice Alex before.  
  
"As much as I'm going to be," he replied, ripping the page out and offering it to Alex. "Here."  
  
Alex stood in silence, staring at the picture. He looked so damn happy Jonathan found it unnerving. Or maybe just embarrassing; he definitely felt the beginnings of a blush crawling up his face. "I should get going," he said, turning his head so Alex wouldn't see.  
  
"Sure," Alex nodded, and from the corner of his eye Jonathan could still see a wide grin splitting his face. "See you again, maybe?"  
  
"Er, maybe?" Jonathan scratched the back of his head, confused. Did that mean Alex spent a lot of time in this area of the woods? Or maybe he just meant they might run into each other in town, or at college? He did look college age, maybe early or mid twenties.  
  
"Oh hey, wait," Alex called, just as Jonathan had started walking away. "What's your name?"  
  
Jonathan paused, considered not answering or giving a false name, but eventually opted for honesty. "Jonathan."  
  
"Thank you!" Alex called. Jonathan waved backward over his shoulder and kept walking.  
  
It didn’t occur to him until much later that it was really, really weird for Alex to have been in the 'cursed' woods at all. Also, that he’d never found that last charcoal.  
  
  
***  
  
Once he’d made it back home, Jonathan pulled out his phone and turned it off airplane mode. Unsurprisingly, it started buzzing incessantly, indicating that he'd missed several messages. He turned it on silent and put it back in his pocket to let it finish catching up. When he finally pulled it back out, it displayed a total of four missed calls and 15 texts, mostly from Darla of course.  
  
He'd always gotten along with Darla, ever since they were kids together, and he really appreciated her concern for his well being. Hell, he might not even be here right now if not for her. He even knew that looking out for him was probably helping her as well, though it had taken a therapist to point that out.  
  
Still, that didn't make it any easier when she couldn't help but remind him of things he'd really rather not think about at all.  
  
After a long internal debate and another five minutes of walking, he reluctantly called her back. She'd probably tried to visit him and found the apartment empty, and he more than owed it to her to at least let her know he was okay.  
  
"Jon! Oh my god, where have you been?" Darla's near frantic voice exclaimed the moment the line connected. "I was going crazy worrying about you! I almost called the police! "  
  
"I'm _fine_ , Darla," Jonathan replied, unable to keep the annoyance from creeping into his tone. He knew she meant well, but… "You don't actually need to come to my house every single day, you know."  
  
"You could at least answer the phone, if you're not going to be home!" Darla shot back, meeting his frustration with plenty of her own.  
  
"Has it occurred to you that maybe I turned my phone off for a reason?" Jonathan replied, kicking a rock in the road a little harder than necessary. "You know that I'm not into the human interaction thing, sometimes"  
  
Darla heaved a long suffering, exasperated sigh that actually made Jonathan start to feel guilty. "I'm just worried, Jon. You and I both know there are a lot of reasons why you could have turned your phone off."  
  
Jonathan tensed immediately, resisting the sudden, violent urge to throw his phone on the ground hard enough to break it. Or possibly scream. He even, somehow, managed to resist hanging up on her.  
  
"Darla." Jonathan said through gritted teeth, once he trusted himself enough to speak. "I. Am. Fine."  
  
Darla's tone changed to something softer, more caring. Jonathan's mind conjured the word 'cloying', however unfair he knew it was. "Honey, it's okay to not be okay. You don't have to pretend."  
  
Darla was a friend, almost family, Jonathan reminded himself. She cared about him and was legitimately concerned for his well-being, and her worry was entirely justified. He probably really freaked her out by not being home. It was completely irrational for him to feel this resentful and angry about it.  
  
"Look, I've got to go," Jonathan said, forcing a calm, reasonable tone. "I'm going straight home, and I'll call you later, okay? I promise."  
  
He hung up before she could response, and forced himself to check the rest of his messages. Not all of them were from Darla, three were from other friends also in the habit of checking in with him regularly. Jonathan wondered if Darla had called any of them looking for him. She probably had. He mass-replied "All good", hoping it would prevent anyone else from freaking out the way Darla had. Or at least prevent them from calling a search party or something similarly overdramatic.  
  
If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he was absolutely sick of being on everyone's suicide watch.


End file.
